


Light and Shadow

by psyraah



Series: To the Stars [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Nudity, Titanic AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 19:36:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6870688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psyraah/pseuds/psyraah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Jean, drawing is about light, shadows, and the way that they work and weave together. Drawing Kain, well, is even more so, because Jean doesn’t just want to find out how they play across Kain’s skin. If Kain will have him, Jean wants to learn all there is to know about the light and shadow in the other man’s heart.  </p><p>(The naked drawing one)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light and Shadow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Xyriath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyriath/gifts).



> There is gorgeous accompanying artwork for this fic by Sassy [here](http://sassyfirealchemist.tumblr.com/post/144447604567/happy-birthday-xyriaththough-its-a-little). **Please note there is nudity/it's nsfw!**

When he had been up on the deck, the ocean at his feet and Jean’s arms snug around his waist—when the request to be drawn, to be admired, had slipped from his lips—Kain had felt invincible.

Now, he was back to feeling far too conscious, noticing the way that Jean filled out his shirt, how strong and solid his arms were as he laid out a blanket on the couch, adjusting the folds of fabric to his liking.

When Jean looked up, he flashed a quick grin, and Kain found himself smiling back; he’d discovered that he couldn’t _not_ smile whenever Jean looked at him.

“You all right?”

Kain swallowed. “Yes, I’m fine. A little…nervous, I guess.”

In a few quick steps, Jean was over, and had his arms wrapped around Kain’s waist and his lips against Kain’s temple. “It’s just me,” he said softly, his fingers trailing up Kain’s back, delightful little shivers chasing up Kain’s spine. “Nothin’ to be nervous about, hm? Y’know, we don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable,” Jean said gently, and he leaned away. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, I want to!” Kain licked his lips, and slowly looped his arms around Jean’s waist, burying his face in Jean’s chest, the faint smell of cigarette smoke clinging to the shirt. “I want to, it’s just…” He hunched his shoulders, loving how Jean’s arms were strong and solid around him, but also far too aware of how…slight he himself was.

Jean lifted one hand to run through Kain’s hair, fiddling with the strands gently. “Just?”

How could he explain? “You…you look really good.”

“What, and you’re sayin’ that you don’t?”

It sounded silly, when Jean put it like that, but Kain merely curled into Jean’s embrace a little more, the silence speaking for itself.

“Kain,” Jean said, and Kain would never tire of his name in that man’s voice, in the way he drew out the single syllable as something to be enjoyed slowly. “I don’t know what anyone else has been tellin’ you, but let me get somethin’ clear for you.”

Gently, Jean’s hand slid from his hair to cup his cheek and coax him away from where he was tucked up against Jean, calloused fingers tilting his chin so that he could catch blue eyes with his own and see the gentle smile on Jean’s face. “I’ve seen a lot of people, livin’ in the city like I did. A lot of them, drawn a lot too. Prissy old ladies, bratty little kids, you name it. And I’ve never seen anyone who looked quite as beautiful as you.”

Kain’s breath caught in his throat, stuttering as he breathed out. _No one_ had ever looked at him like that. Had ever looked at him as though they were glad to have him, actually happy to see him, find something worthy of loving in him.

“I want this to be somethin’ _you_ wanna do, but I also just wanna let you know that you don’t gotta be scared of me, right?”

Kain swallowed, but the way that Jean looked at him, earnest honesty and soft smile, had the nerves settling into a little flutter instead. “Yes. I…I trust you.”

The way Jean’s eyes lit up would stay with Kain forever

Gently, Jean lowered his forehead to Kain’s, breath shallow. “I’m…I’m glad. Thank you,” he breathed, and before Kain could say anything more, Jean captured his lips with his own.

It was still so—so _new_ , so exciting and a little frightening, but Kain liked kissing. A _lot_ , he decided, letting out a little noise when Jean raised both hands to cup Kain’s face, gently nipping at his lip. It felt so nice to have Jean’s hands against his skin that Kain thought that he’d try the same, slowly bringing his own hand up to rest against Jean’s cheek. Rough, he thought, feeling the way that Jean’s cheeks were speckled with stubble. But nice. Still very nice.

When they drew back, Kain was smiling, and his heart was racing. “Draw me,” he said, breathless. “I want you to draw me.”

Grinning, Jean looped his arms around Kain’s shoulders, leaned into the hand that was still stroking his cheek. “You’re sure?” he asked, giving Kain a gentle peck on the forehead.

“Yes,” Kain said, still nervous, but no more hesitation. “I want to…see how you see me.”

And without anything more, he dropped his arms from around Jean’s waist and started unbuttoning his shirt.

“I’ll just finish getting my stuff ready then.” Stroking Kain’s cheek one last time with a smile, he picked up his sketchbook from where he’d deposited it on the table, then pursed his lips and surveyed the couch which he’d been preparing. Seeming to come to a decision, he dragged a chair to face the couch, and Kain found it…endearing, how Jean’s brow was furrowed as he inspected the set-up. Dropping the sketchpad on the chair, he fiddled with the cushions a little more, until he was satisfied.

“That’ll be good,” he muttered, mostly to himself, before turning back to Kain.

“Oh.”

Kain didn’t know if Jean’s little, barely there, intake of breath was a good thing. He’d taken off his shirt, stripped himself of his trousers, and now Jean was just…looking at him, unmoving. Kain froze, uncertainty hitting him all over again as he stood there in nothing but his underwear.

But then Jean was next to him, his wonderful fingers gentle across his cheek, and Kain took that as a good sign.

“You’re…Kain, lord, you’re beautiful.”

Kain was _very_ glad that Jean’s hand was on his cheek; it meant he could turn and hide the blush that spread across them.

“Like you can talk,” he mumbled, heart doing little flips.

“No, I’m serious. You’re gorgeous.”

Cheeks still flaming, Kain glared up at Jean, planting his hands on his hips. “Are you ever going to get around to drawing me?” he demanded.

Jean laughed, slinging an arm around Kain’s shoulders, and he _loved_ how he fit against Jean’s side. “As you wish, Master Fuery,” Jean said, leading Kain to the couch. “Though you haven’t quite finished undressing for me yet, you’re gonna have to ta—oh, you’ve got a bruise here.”

Confused, Kain turned his head to look at where Jean’s hand rested on his arm. Then his heart skipped a beat when he saw the marks; dark, ugly, and the _fear_ that had flashed through him when his father had grabbed him ( _shoved him, hit him_ ) reared its ugly head again.

“Oh, I didn’t notice,” he said. “I must’ve…must’ve run into something.” He hoped it sounded casual, normal.

It worked, for a moment, with Jean just frowning a little, but the smile was still there. “You should be more careful,” he said, fingers tracing the bruising. Gentle, gentle, gentle.

Kain swallowed. “Yes, I will,” he said softly, turning away so Jean didn’t have to _look_ at it anymore.

And maybe the movement was too swift, maybe he’d been too eager to hide. Because Jean stilled, his fingers remaining on Kain’s skin. Then he moved, so he could look closer, and it was—Kain couldn’t move away without it being too _obvious_. But it was too late for that anyway.

“Kain,” Jean said. Kain couldn’t meet his eye. “ _What_ did you run into?”

“I—I can’t remember,” Kain stammered.

 _Disgrace. Ungrateful_.

Suddenly, he felt _far_ too exposed, standing there with barely a stitch on, and Jean’s eyes on the marks across his arm.

Kain was prepared for Jean to push, _expected_ that the other man would demand answers. After all, he’d figured it out—Jean wasn’t stupid, and the bruises were numerous, dotted across Kain’s skin where his father had grabbed him earlier. It was _insulting_ , honestly, that Kain had pulled out a weak lie like that, and it—it made something horrible settle in the pit of Kain’s stomach, to be lying once again, to someone who he didn’t _want_ to be anything but honest. Jean would be angry, and rightfully so.

Jean’s arms went around him, and pulled him close.

Kain didn’t know what to do.

Hesitantly, Kain lifted his own arms up to circle Jean’s waist. Jean was…upset; Kain could feel that, in how Jean’s arms were cinched tight around him, how his fingers weren’t quite steady as they ran through Kain’s hair. He _wished_ that Jean didn’t have to be upset.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, voice muffled against Jean’s shirt. “You’re mad.”

“No, no, no,” Jean said hurriedly, and he pressed his lips to Kain’s hair. “I’m…I’m not mad. Well, I’m not mad at you,” he corrected. Then gentle fingers were brushing his chin, tilting his head up so he could meet Jean’s eyes, grave and solemn.

“I’m not mad,” he repeated. “I just…you should be happy.”

“I am,” Kain said immediately, and he turned so he could kiss Jean’s fingertips, earning him a surprised chuckle, weak though it was. “I really am. You make me happy.”

Jean’s expression simply melted; there wasn’t any other way to describe how the small furrow between his brows simply flew away, how the corners of his mouth lifted, unbidden, into a helpless smile.

“I’m glad you’ll have me,” he murmured, fingers dancing gently over the bare skin of Kain’s back, never still, tracing gentle circles around his shoulders blades and slow trails up his spine.

Kain hummed contentedly, let go of the tension as best he could. “Are _you_ happy?”

Jean was quiet for a moment, before he shifted just enough to lean over and brush his lips gently over the bruising on Kain’s arm. Then he straightened once more, linking his fingers with Kain’s and the barely-there smile making Kain’s heart flutter.

“Yes,” he said simply. “Very.”

Kain squeezed the hand in his, and nodded. “Good.”

Then he poked Jean in the chest—hard.

“Now, are you going to draw me or not?”

* * *

Jean didn’t know how he was in so deep, so quick. But he was, and if there had ever been one thing he’d learned in his years roaming about, it was that when good times came, you had to grab them with both hands. And spending time with Kain was more than good. It was just easy, and thrilling. Not simple in _any_ way, but Jean had no question that he would be with Kain as long as the other man would have him.

 _How_ anyone could be anything other than good to Kain just…baffled him. More than that, it angered him, though he kept it buckled down damn tight. Just the way that Kain was a little uncertain, a little frightened by everything, how he didn’t quite trust anyone to be good to him.

And it was more than anger that Jean felt at seeing the marks on Kain’s arms. It was rage, pure, deep, and as dark as the bruises across pale skin.

He hadn’t pushed. A short hour’s worth of dinner with Kain and his family had been enough to show Jean that Kain was used to being overridden, trodden down, shoved aside, and hidden. So he didn’t push, even if the marks had been too scattered to have come from running into something, even though he’d seen the way that Kain’s father treated him—barely covered scorn, and more importantly, the anger with which he looked at Kain.

Himself? Well, Jean wanted nothing more than to see Kain smile, to see him free and not so damn scared of everything. So when Kain’s arms still felt a little stiff as Jean gently placed them the way he wanted, Jean nudged his noise against Kain’s, which earned him a tiny, _adorable_ wrinkling.

“This still feels silly,” Kain said, letting Jean shift his arm just a little more.

“ _Au contraire_ ,” Jean said, grin wide.

Kain laughed, as Jean had intended him to. “Jean, your accent is _terrible_.” There might’ve been a complaint, but now Kain was smiling.

Jean dropped his grin to gasp in mock-offence. “How _dare_ you?” he asked. “I will have you know, Kain Fuery, that my French is _impeccable_.”

From any less polite company, the sound Kain made might’ve been called a snort. From Kain, though, Jean didn’t really know what to call it, except incredibly cute.

“Whoever told you that, Jean? They were lying.”

Jean gasped. “Juliette would _never_. She was the sweetest, the prettiest, most beautiful, heartwarmingest person I’d _ever_ met, and her words were nothing but the purest truth—”

“Well, could you even understand her?”

Jean glared, and Kain laughed, tugging a lock of blonde hair—probably trying to comfort him, or something. “And speaking of lies, I though you said _I_ was all those things?”

Jean’s glare quickly turned into a grin as he swooped to kiss Kain’s nose. “Well, I hadn’t _met_ you then, had I?” he asked, before standing back to admire his handiwork.

It was perfect. He hadn’t been lying when he said Kain was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. There was just…something that drew Jean (although he would be the one drawing soon). The lamplight painted a golden glow across pale skin, and Kain was draped over the blankets and cushions that Jean had carefully placed on the couch, relaxed now after the teasing. Jean had carefully set one leg so it was slightly elevated, Kain’s hands almost clasped together, the Heart of the Ocean sitting between them. It was _just_ visible, enough so that you could see what it was, the promise of beauty suggested by the jewel’s chain which snaked out from between Kain’s fingers. A promise of something more, if you earned the trust of the one guarding it.

“You really are beautiful, Kain,” Jean said softly, and Kain’s ears pinked up adorably. “I hope you believe me when I say that.”

Kain looked away as his cheeks heated up, licked his lips, then brought his gaze back up to catch Jean's. “I don't _not_ believe it.” Jean hoped that there would never be a day where Kain's smile didn't warm him all over. "You really are very nice to me."

Jean grinned. He should really get started; Kain was probably starting to get cold, but he just couldn't help himself, couldn't help how his legs just took him over to the couch, had him kneeling next to it as he smoothed one hand over Kain's hip. “No, I'm big and scary,” Jean said, though the words were gentle and teasing. “So scary.”

Kain rolled his eyes, but before he could laugh at Jean any more, Jean leaned down, and met Kain’s mouth with his own, swallowing down Kain’s little gasp.

 _That_ shut him up, Jean thought, satisfied.

And when Jean drew back, Kain made an _adorable_ little sound of protest that had Jean chuckling.

“Thought you said I was terrible,” Jean murmured, still gently smoothing his thumb in circles on Kain’s hip. Then he pecked Kain’s nose one last time before drawing away reluctantly. “C’mon, we should get started, else we’re never gonna get done.”

“Okay.” Kain sighed. “Only if you promise to kiss me more later.”

Jean grinned, settling back in his chair and arranging his pencils. “So much you won’t know what to do with yourself, Master Fuery.”

And it was _that_ which Jean wanted to capture: the way Kain smiled, a little shy but so delighted, how a blush crept up his cheeks even as he boldly looked Jean in the eye. It was all that and more: the innocence, the charm, the humour once he relaxed, the kindness in spite of everything.

“You ready?”

Kain sighed dramatically. “Just hurry up,” he said, but any bite in the words was taken away by the way he smiled cheekily, before turning his gaze back to the jewel in his hand, angling his head the way Jean had told him to.

“Perfect,” Jean murmured, drinking in the sight a moment longer, thinking of light, shadows, shapes. Thinking of how it felt to fall in love, slow and gentle but with the suddenness that only felt safe, and not terrifying. Of warmth and the quiet beauty that Kain had, of how _lucky_ Jean felt to be able to see Kain learn that not all the world was a terrible place, to be able to help him see that.

Of how Kain looked at him as though he had hung the stars in the sky and lit the sun in all its beauty.

And with that in mind, Jean finally set his pencil to his sketchpad to capture the love of his life in paper and graphite.


End file.
